


Going Home

by TWDObsessive



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Daryl is in the closet, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Feels, First Kiss, Gay!Daryl, Insecure Daryl, Love Confessions, M/M, No seriously- he is IN a closet, Past Abuse, Pining, Rickyl, Rickyl Writers' Group, Rutting, With Rick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-28
Updated: 2016-01-28
Packaged: 2018-05-16 18:59:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5837251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TWDObsessive/pseuds/TWDObsessive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A prompt that SorrowJunky sent me through Tumblr:</p><p> </p><p>  <em>"What about they both go on a run and somehow end up at Daryl’s old house. Daryl struggles with the memories and Rick is there for him - emotionally and physically? Like this is where they finally reveal feelings and hook up for the first time - one because they love each other and the second is to give a royal f-you to Daryl’s homophobic family and his to clean himself of his past? Or at least something like that. Hope this can be do-able?"</em></p><p> </p><p>It is doable!!  In fact- here it is!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Going Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SorrowJunky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SorrowJunky/gifts).



> I have a lot of prompts and I thank you all for them. (I specifically have a couple good ones recently pulled aside from StormFrost). But I can't start writing one until the muse hits me. I got this prompt sent through Anon on Tumblr and I started writing it in my head before I even finished reading the prompt! I sent out a plea on Tumblr asking who it was so I could gift it to them... and voila! It was SorrowJunky posting from a friend's account! So if you guys like this... thank her for the great idea! If you don't- blame me, cause I wrote it! LOL!
> 
> And I forgo to mention- this was beta'd by my skarlatha!!!

“Wait. I know where we are,” Daryl said, a little dazed. Rick stopped in his tracks and looked behind them at the growing horde on their trail. They’d been running for hours, trying to keep ahead. Trying to find a way to circle back to the prison. With other groups of walkers showing up in all directions, they were finally out of bullets and bolts with nothing but their knives and the constant groaning and shuffling of the dead on their heals.

They were in the middle of the woods, so how Daryl suddenly knew exactly where they were was beyond Rick. “We gotta find a place to lay low. Be quiet and let them pass us by--”

“There’s a cabin,” Daryl interrupted and moved forward with a little too much hesitation considering they had walkers close behind. Finally the trees opened up to a small building, more like a dilapidated shack than a cabin. Daryl stepped up on the porch and stared at the door. Rick had his knife out, his empty Python useless and strapped in his belt. 

“Go on, Daryl. Open it. We can clear it with the knives. Doubt anything will be in here anyway.”

“Shouldn’t be,” Daryl answered, sounding small and timid like he used to earlier, in the first weeks of the apocalypse after Merle was long gone and Daryl was alone.

The archer reached for the knob but made no move to enter. He looked back over his shoulder at the sounds of the dead walking and moaning incessantly. They weren’t in view yet, but they were on their way. Laying low in this cabin would be their only option. 

Rick stepped in front of Daryl and opened it. It was unlocked and it creaked open slowly. The leader slipped in and Daryl walked in cautiously behind him. They went room to room and found themselves alone.

Rick peered out a curtain. “They’re comin’,” he whispered. “We just need to be quiet and lay low.”

“Closet here in the middle. We should stay in there. Extra set a walls ‘tween us and them,” Daryl suggested.

They slipped inside and slowly closed the door. Daryl turned on a flashlight and reached up for pillows that were kept on a set of upper shelves. He pulled down a box that appeared to be well stocked with tuna and crackers and a half-filled bottle of whiskey. Rick watched him, brows knit in confusion, as they both sat down. 

“You been here before,” he said.

Daryl nodded and jumped when the first walker bumped into the side of the house. Rick had never seen him jump like that before and he put a hand on his knee as they sat in the dark room, lit only by the flashlight that Daryl put on the ground. “‘S ok, man. We been pinned like this before. They’ll go right by us. Just have to wait ‘em out.” At the sound of more bumps from moving bodies Daryl jumped again and scrambled backwards away from Rick’s touch. 

“Daryl,” he whispered. “Something’s wrong. Talk to me.” 

The hunter pulled his knees back and wrapped his arms around his legs. He nodded to his box. “Food in there if you’re hungry,” he said as he reached for the whiskey, twisted off the cap and lifted it to his lips.

Rick held Daryl’s eyes in the fading yellow of the flashlight as Daryl drank then bit on a thumbnail. The leader waited patiently for Daryl to say more. He knew the other man just needed time to gather his words. 

“Use ta live here. When I was a kid,” the archer finally said.

Rick’s eye grew wide as he recalled everything he’d learned about his friend in the past year. The marks on his back. The dedication to his brother. His skittishness about being touched. And he knew this wasn’t a good place for him to be. 

“Oh,” Rick said with a firm nod, a way to tell Daryl that he understood everything it meant for him to be in this house. “No one here now, but us. And the dead outside will be gone by morning.” 

Daryl nodded and handed the whiskey to Rick. He took it with one hand and peaked closer into the box with the other. Crackers, tuna, another flashlight, an old deck of cards, a couple GI Joe guys, and some magazines.

Daryl reached in, grabbed the magazines and put them behind him. “Only stuff we need in there is the food,” he said, biting back on a nail.

“This where you went? Hiding from your daddy?” Rick asked slow and quiet. He wanted to know more about Daryl. The man was his best friend but he wasn’t like Shane had been. Shane could talk all night and day without a single pause. Daryl never said much more than was absolutely necessary. Rick still knew him well though. Knew most of his moves before he’d make them. Knew how his body would shift subtly before he’d make a right turn. Knew when he had a squirrel or a deer in his sight. Knew when he was tired. When he was hungry. When he didn’t like what someone said. When he had an idea he was too shy to share unless prodded. Even knew when he needed to take a piss. Rick could read him. But he never got to really listen.

Daryl nodded wordlessly and bit at his bottom lip, suddenly looking like the lost child he once was. Rick reached into the box between them and pulled out a G.I. Joe. He looked at it and smiled at the archer. “I had this one too.” 

Daryl took the bottle back from Rick since he hadn’t touched it and took another sip. “That might be all we had in common as kids. Hope so anyway.” 

Rick took the bottle back and drank, wanting to make this a comfortable space now for his friend. Wanting him to feel like they were in this together. Another body bumped into the side of the house and Daryl jumped again. 

“It’s ok. I’m here,” Rick said, worrying that he might be babying Daryl a little too much. “Be here all night. Just me,” Rick said as he leaned back into one of the pillows and grabbed the cards and shuffled just to have something to do with his hands.

He looked back over to his best friend. “Any good magazines? Haven’t seen one in ages.”

Daryl looked down and hid behind his long strands of hair. He shook his head. “Ain’t magazines you’d be interested in, Rick.”

Rick looked up, puzzled. “Hunting?”

Daryl sighed. Rick could tell by his slumped shoulders that Daryl could read him too. He knew Rick was unlikely to let something go that he wanted to know. “No, man. They’re gay,” he whispered softly, ashamed, nail finding its way back between his lips.

“Oh like Entertainment Weekly or one of those bullshit Hollywood things?” Rick asked, putting the shuffled cards back in the deck.

Daryl looked at him with his jaw hanging open. This look, Rick knew, meant that Daryl thought Rick was a moron. He’s seen it more times than he’d like to admit. 

“No, man. Like literally gay. I’m gay, Rick. I hope that doesn’t freak you out since we’re stuck in here til morning.”

Rick tilted his head and watched Daryl as he looked away, chewing nervous on his thumb. That changed a lot of things. Changed everything but at the same time it changed nothing. Rick thought about all the times he had to embarrassingly hide a hard-on from sleeping side-by-side with the archer, afraid the affection he’d developed would not be reciprocated, might even be met with fists and accusations. He marveled at what kind of door this just opened for him and then he started laughing. 

“FUCK you, man,” Daryl spat. “Saved your ass bringing you in here. Don’t fucking laugh at me.” 

“Daryl, calm down. I’m just… it’s just… you just came out of the closet while literally sitting in a closet. It’s funny.”

Daryl glared at him. “Ain’t funny.”

Rick sat up and gave Daryl the grabby hands that Judith now used when she wanted something. “Lemme see ‘em.”

“No, man. They ain’t your kinda thing.” 

“How do you know what my kinda thing is?”

“You were married with a kid, Rick,” Daryl snapped.

“Lori’s gone, man. I ain’t nothing now. Just alone like you. And scared most of the time.” A few more bumps from walkers made Rick jump this time. 

They were quiet as they passed the bottle back and forth a few times, drinking just enough to get the warm belly burn and to settle their nerves, then Daryl twisted the cap back on tight and put it back in his box.

“I like knowing this about you,” Rick said quietly.

Daryl looked up at him challengingly. “Why?”

“I always like getting to know you better. You’re my best friend, my brother.”

Daryl blushed and looked away. “Most people don’t like finding that shit out. Half these scars were from the old man finding some of these magazines under my bed.”

“I’m sorry, Daryl,” Rick said affectionately. 

“Just want to get the night over with and get the fuck out of here,” the archer grumbled.

“We will. I’ll even help you burn the place to the ground if you want to.” 

Daryl laughed in his soft barely-a-laugh way. You’d only know it was a laugh if you really knew him. And Rick really knew him.

“So… what was your type?” Rick asked pointing to the magazines Daryl still had behind his back.

“Really? You really want to talk about this while you are trapped in a closet with me?”

“It’s not leprosy, man. You’re gay. So what?”

Daryl leaned back against his own pillow and frowned. “Not used to people taking it in stride.”

Rick was quiet while he observed Daryl leaning back into the corner of the closet and quietly tearing open a row of saltines. He could imagine this same scene playing out with Daryl at all different ages, scrunched up in that corner, and it made him want to cry. His body language was so defensive. Arms tight, knees drawn up, hands balled into fists as he ripped carefully at the wrapper.

“Am I your type?” Rick asked more directly.

Daryl darted his eyes up and the carefully peeling wrapper from the crackers split violently open, saltines crumbling everywhere. “Goddammit,” Daryl murmured. Rick helped him pick up as many of the crackers as they could get that weren’t crumbled to smithereens and put them back in the box, both eating a few as they worked. When the mess was cleaned up, Rick resituated his pillow so they were both leaning against the far wall of the closet next to each other. 

“You told me something private. So I owe you one secret. You want to collect now?” Rick asked.

“Don’t matter,” Daryl said noncommittally, but Rick could speak Dixon and he knew that meant yes.

Rick breathed deep and picked at a thread on his worn-out jeans. “Been having dreams about you.”

Daryl side-eyed him suspiciously. “What kinda dreams?”

Now Rick was feeling bashful. He scratched at the back of his neck so he could turn his face away, hiding the blush. “The kind that feels so real. That has hands and mouths and bodies all in a blur. Ends with me waking up to another ruined pair of boxers.”

“You been having _sex_ dreams about me?”

“Yes,” Rick answered unequivocally. “Often.”

“Why?” Daryl asked, utterly confused.

“I assume because I have feelings for you. And because I’ve wanted to touch you like that for a long time now. I want to now. Want to comfort you because I can tell how uncomfortable you are in this house. Want to wrap myself around you. Protect you from your demons.”

Daryl was speechless. Rick watched him out of the corner of his eye. And after god knows how many silent minutes passed, Rick started to wonder if this was all too much for Daryl to take in right now. Christ, had he rendered him mute? He sat, quiet and unmoving, next to Rick. Arms tight around his legs and the occasional jump from the sounds of walkers outside the house.

“Daryl?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I do that? Would it help… to wrap my arms around you?”

Daryl shrugged. And in Dixon translation, Rick knew that meant yes as well. He carefully put a hand on Daryl’s shoulder and nudged him forward, moving practically in slow motion. He pulled the pillow out from behind the archer, and slid himself clumsily into its spot, Daryl between his legs still high-strung and balled up tight.

Rick reached around and gently took Daryl’s hands in his. “Lean back. It’s ok,” Rick whispered. And slowly, like molasses, like the speed of the setting sun, he rolled back and leaned his back against Rick’s chest. 

“Don’t go having one of your dreams back there and getting _my_ pants all sticky. ‘S my last pair.”

Rick laughed and he wrapped his arms around Daryl. The archer tensed at first. “It’s just me, Daryl. Relax.”

After a few comfortable moments without words, Daryl asked, “You really thinking those things about me or you just trying to make me feel better?”

“Have I ever lied to you?” Rick asked rubbing at the goosebumps on the archer’s dirty biceps.

“No,” Daryl responded, his body becoming more pliant as it got used to the feel of Rick against him and around him.

“No reason to lie now. Also no reason to keep those thoughts a secret. ‘Less I'm not your type. Then you should probably let me down easy. Like now, before I get my hopes up.”

Daryl stifled an awkward laugh. It was a rare thing to hear, but man, was it something that made you feel alive. 

“‘Course you're my type. Why wouldn't you be?”

Rick intertwined his fingers back into Daryl's as the archer finally relaxed enough to rest his head against Rick’s shoulder. 

“Thank god,” Rick sighed, kissing the side of Daryl's head. “If it weren't for the apocalypse this would be the moment when I'd ask you out on a proper date.”

Daryl snorted. “We never would have crossed paths if it weren't for the apocalypse.”

“Sure we coulda.”

“How?”

“Maybe I'd be broke down on the side of the road and you'd have stopped to help me?” Rick felt Daryl shrug his shoulders. “Maybe I’d have pulled you over for speeding?”

“Dick,” Daryl murmured.

“Hey,” Rick said in mock surprise, “I'd have let you off with a warning. We woulda had the same instant chemistry we had when you threw squirrels at me.” Daryl was so warm in Rick’s arms and the leader felt so satisfied and at peace holding him close, letting his secret out and learning that it was nothing to be afraid of sharing.

“So what’s a proper date then?” Daryl asked.

“Stargazing,” Rick answered quickly, like he'd given it plenty of thought already. “Pick you up, then coffee from Starbucks, then drive out on 85, take that little dirt road that goes to nowhere by the lake? Sit on the hood of the car and I’d try to show off, pointing out some of the constellations I know about. Looking over to watch you looking up at ‘em.” Daryl was so still in Rick’s arms that the leader wondered for a moment of he'd fallen asleep. He jumped just a tiny bit at the sound of another walker bumping into the house. “I'd bring peanut M&M’s and Oreos for us to snack on,” Rick added.

Daryl’s body moved against Rick like he was trying not to giggle. “Awfully specific about those snacks,” he said.

“Well, I LOVE peanut M&Ms. And I'd hope that you’d like the Oreo's and that you'd do the thing where you twist the top off and lick the filling first.”

Daryl shoved an elbow into Rick playfully. “You already know that's how I eat ‘em. Seen me plenty of times.”

“I know. I like watching it.”

Daryl curled tighter into Rick like he was trying to crawl inside of him and hide from the whole world. “Sounds like a nice date,” he said wistfully.

“Would you ask me on a second?” Rick asked.

Daryl nodded. 

“What would the second date be?”

“Night fishing,” Daryl answered after a few moments in thought. “Then _I'd_ show off. You probably wouldn't throw the rod right and I'd have to stand behind you and show you how.”

“You move fast, Dixon!” Rick laughed.

Daryl was now playing with Rick’s hands. Just pressing fingers against one another and slowly rubbing his thumb around Rick's palm.

“No, not me. Too shy to make moves like you're thinkin’. Perve.”

Rick nuzzled Daryl's head with his own and lowered his voice a bit. “I wouldn't be too shy. Not too shy now, either.” He let one hand slip out of Daryl's and rested it on the archer’s upper thigh. Rick could feel Daryl's heartbeat start racing.

“So what exactly happens in those dreams of yours?” Daryl asked in his soft, naive whisper.

“You really wanna know?”

Daryl nodded quickly. 

“It’s usually somewhere in the prison. Just us walking and talking. Then we have to hide for some reason. Have to be quiet. And we’re in a cell. Not from C-block but from one of those ones down in D. I’d be holding you. Holding a hand over your mouth because we had to be quiet. Walkers were going past the cell we slipped into and there was no door. Once they were gone, I’d look at you to make sure you were ok and you just start kissing me.”

“I start it?” Daryl interrupted. “Doesn’t sound like me.” 

Rick smiled, one of his hands holding one of Daryl’s and the other still gently laying on Daryl’s thigh. “So you always have to wait for the other guy to make the first move?” he asked.

“Pfft. What other guy? Just cause I know I’m gay doesn’t mean I was gettin’ any,” Daryl responded softly.

“You’re a virgin?” 

“Fuck you, Rick,” Daryl said defensively. 

“That’s not a bad thing, Daryl. At all. Hell, I only ever been with Lori. So that makes us both gay virgins, actually.” 

Daryl giggled and Rick hugged him tighter because the sound of his rare laugh made Rick want him even more than he already did.

“You gonna finish that dream? Or is kissing all it takes to make yourself come in your own pants?”

“You’re gonna be a smart ass now, really?” Rick asked, the air in the closet now light between them. The space around them theirs and only theirs. Daryl shifted a little and his legs that had been pulled tight to him now stretched out longer in front of him. His hunched shoulders were more relaxed. Rick rubbed his hand on Daryl’s thigh as he continued.

“So you kiss me and of course I kiss back because I’ve been wanting to kiss you for months. And then you push me onto the bed and suddenly we’re back on the farm. Your shirt’s off and you're in that room healing from after you got shot and I’m straddling you and taking off my shirt. And in my dream I can _feel_ our chests touching. Then neither of us is wearing anything and we’re just grinding naked against each other. I’m telling you ‘I need you.’ And you’re telling me ‘yes.’” Rick finally moved his hand to rub over the bulge straining against Daryl’s jeans. 

“Rick,” Daryl whispered and pushed his hand away. “What are you tryin’ to do, man?”

“Nothin’,” Rick said with a guilty smile.

“Your hard-on against my back tells me different”

“Well, we got all night to kill,” Rick whispered and he pressed his lips to Daryl’s neck. The archer melted into him and he purred softly as Rick’s hand went back to the archer’s hard cock.

“Shouldn't be doing this, shouldn’t even be talking about this here. My da--” Daryl stopped in mid-sentence and his body tensed.

“Your dad would kill us?” Rick finished for him.

“Yeah.” 

“He ain’t here, Daryl. He ain’t here and I am. He’s never gonna take nothin’ from you again. Never gonna touch you again. And I’m never gonna do nothin’ you don’t want. I’ll only ever take what you’ll give me.”

Daryl didn’t respond. He’d balled himself up again, biting a nail.

“How bad was it?” Rick asked softly, holding him tight and stroking fingers through his stringy hair.

“Bad.” 

Rick waited. He never pushed Daryl. Ever. But he always gave him plenty of time to talk. He knew it took the archer a while sometimes to feel like what he had to say was worth hearing.

“Worse than walkers. Walkers ain’t got the words, or the belt. Walker’s ain’t ‘sposed to be takin’ care of ya. They’re just like… an annoying fly. My daddy was like a fuckin’ grizzly. An angry fuckin’ grizzly. No way to escape.”

“And he’s gone now,” Rick said softly. “And this ain’t his house and this ain’t his closet. This is ours now. You won. You beat him. He’s gone and you’re here. You got a life. You got family. You got someone that wants you. Lots of people but… like…” Rick was temporarily at a loss for words. And that was rare. “I want you, Daryl. So fucking bad. Want you to let me hold you like this. Want to know everything about you. Want to be able to kiss you like in my dream. Want to take you away from this. Bring you somewhere else. You save my ass ten times a day. I want to save you, protect you for once.”

Daryl turned to face Rick and they looked in one another’s eyes. And wordlessly, because Daryl was so often wordless, he leaned forward and let his lips brush Rick’s. He let Rick take over from there, and the leader did, slotting their lips together, tangling fingers into Daryl’s shaggy hair. And after a few minutes of exploring lips and tongues and mouths, Daryl shifted more towards Rick and put his hands into Rick’s long curls. They kissed until Rick knew every contour of Daryl’s tongue. When they were both out of breath, Daryl’s forehead dropped to Rick’s shoulder. Shy. Hiding.

“Have you ever thought of me like this, Daryl?” Rick asked, both men still panting for air.

“Yes.” 

Rick dropped his hand back over the bulge in Daryl’s jeans. “Am I moving too fast?”

“No.”

That was all the encouragement Rick needed. He maneuvered them so that they were stretched out together along the length of the dingy closet, Rick on top of Daryl, lips together again like dancers coming to the floor when the music starts. Daryl whimpered below him. The archer’s hands started to roam, braver, untucking Rick’s shirt and feeling their way up the leader’s back. He wrapped a leg around Rick’s leg, locking them tightly together. The leader moaned against Daryl’s mouth, his body rutting once he felt Daryl responding. 

“I never thought this would happen,” Daryl whimpered between kisses and Rick knew everything he meant by those simple words, that he’d never thought he’d find someone, love someone, have someone, have _Rick_. And the idea, the knowledge, that Daryl wanted Rick in all the same ways that Rick had been pining for him, sent goosebumps all over the leader’s body despite the stuffy closet roasting them in the Georgia summer sun.

They slowed for a moment, just looking at one another in the shadows of the dim flashlight. Rick started to peel Daryl’s shirt off and the archer reached down. At first Rick thought he was being stopped, but Daryl grabbed the bottom hem and pulled it over his own head and then pulled Rick’s off just as quickly. Rick put the palm of his hand flat against Daryl’s chest. “This is better than I dreamed, Daryl.” 

“Yeah,” Daryl gasped. 

Rick bent down to sprinkle kisses along Daryl’s collarbone, along his shoulders and down to a nipple, suckling and nibbling at it and loving the way Daryl’s body writhed around below him, reacting to Rick’s mouth, to his touch, to his words. 

Rick pulled off. “I can stop anytime, If it’s too much-”

“No. More!” Daryl sobbed, bursting with emotions he was finally letting loose. 

Rick reached down and unbuttoned and unzipped first himself and then Daryl, moving his lips to Daryl’s neck as the archer slid his hands into the back of Rick’s jeans, cupping at his ass, tugging him closer as he bucked up against him from below. Rick reached between them and held their lengths tight together, both leaking enough precome that one stroke down made them slick with it. Rick sucked onto Daryl’s bottom lip as his lover moaned and he stroked them both, his other hand propping him up a bit and Daryl was losing himself, groaning and gasping. Rick’s name caught in between uneven breaths until he cried out in surprise, spilling between them, Rick just a moment behind him, overwhelmed with the sound of real pleasure on Daryl’s tongue, the build up from months dreaming of Daryl losing himself to Rick like this. And both lay spent and gasping for breath, covered in a white, blank peace like a cashmere blanket soft over their skin.

After they came down, Rick cleaned them both off with a pillow case, then resituated the pillows and pulled Daryl close, spooning against him. Daryl reached out and took Rick’s hand as they started to doze off. 

“You ok?” Rick asked.

“Yeah,” Daryl answered, the sound of a smile on his lips. Rick wanted to tell him a million things. A million things that basically all boiled down to three words. He loved him. He’s loved him for months. He would have kept on loving him even if none of this would have happened. Daryl was his center. His reason. His tether. He wanted to say those things, but Daryl was delicate about talking and emotions so Rick would keep it to himself for now. He didn’t expect Daryl to have any more words for this moment between them, when words were always so hard for the archer to find. So when Daryl did speak, Rick was truly surprised.

“You know, this wasn’t ever really my _home_ ,” Daryl murmured softly, pulling one of Rick’s hands close to his lips and kissing. “This was just where I lived once. You’re my home.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope it wasn't too cheesy. This was just such a great idea that I worry I haven't done it justice!


End file.
